Frontiers by Cars1
by Words of Love for Meli
Summary: Come, join me as we explore the rugged frontier of British Columbia with one lost pilot who is struggling to get rid of the demons that haunt him. I hope you enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

A million thanks to my beta, the wonderful LatteCoug, and to my pre-reader, the amazing MizzezPattinson. Your friendship and support mean everything to me.

Written for Words for Meli.

 _Romance. Edward & Bella. _

Come, join me as we explore the rugged frontier of British Columbia with one lost pilot who is struggling to get rid of the demons that haunt him. I hope you enjoy.

 _ **Frontiers - by CarLemon (Cars1)**_

 _ **Edward**_

The fog envelopes the tarmac as I sit, practically hyperventilating in the glass cockpit of the Airbus A320. I can't see a goddamn thing out the window. My heart is racing in my chest, and I feel like I might throw up. The controls blur in front of me, the blood pumping wildly behind my ears while I try to focus.

Vaguely, I can hear passengers loading into the cabin behind me; the friendly voices of the flight attendants directing them to their seats, assisting with stowing their bags.

It's been eleven months. I should be over this by now. 

I've been through enough therapy sessions, and spent a fucking fortune to try to chase the demons away. I've been perfect in every single flight simulation I've done since it happened. It's almost like it never really happened.

Almost.

But now, as I hear the faint cry of an infant in the cabin while I try to concentrate on the pre-flight routine, it all comes crashing back to me. No two flights are the same. Flying is complex, fluid, and constantly changing. It's a place where decision-making is critical. One mistake means the difference between life and death, and now, it's like I'm right back there, living it again.

I can hear the engines thud mid-way through the flight. The thrust becomes non-existent, and the plane takes a gradual nosedive towards the Atlantic. Then I see very clearly the exact moment when I panicked.

I freeze in front of the controls. The countless hours spent learning and flying, preparing for something like this fall away from me, and for a fraction of a second, I'm lost; a moment in time that changed my life completely. A moment that, if done differently, maybe would not have resulted in the loss of life.

Pilots will have countless takeoffs and landings in their career. Most of the time, flights will simply blur together. Then, there are some that will stay with you forever. Flight 872, May 18, 2015, is mine.

Even though I've received the Master's Medal for saving one hundred and thirty-nine lives, I don't feel like I deserve it. Even after his father told me it wasn't my fault, and the Prime Minister shook my hand and called me a hero. Even after I've attended countless dinners held, allegedly, in my honour.

The only thing I can see, the only thing that matters, is the fact that one hundred and forty people boarded that plane, but only one hundred and thirty-nine came back alive.

An eight-year-old little boy is dead, taken away before he got a chance to live, and it's my fault.

I can hear the muffled confusion from passengers I'm responsible for behind the cockpit door. I hear the flight attendant, Jane, her strained voice through the intercom, though what she said on that day, I can't remember now. It's muted, hazy.

I see my co-pilot, Jasper, his eyes focused in concentration while we work through the emergency procedure protocols to try to restart the engines. He's saying something to me; his lips are moving, but I can't hear him.

The whitecaps on the aqua surface of the ocean loom closer, and something snaps in my brain. Regaining composure, somehow the plane levels. I hear myself announcing to the passengers and the crew to brace for impact – probably the worst words any pilot can ever say.

Jasper and I work in tandem; quietly, methodically, fuelled solely by adrenaline.

An eerie silence envelopes the cockpit. The sun beats down through a cloudless sky, and the calming blue ocean inches ever closer. I radio for help. The plane skims across the water for some indefinable period of time. And I do the only thing I can - focus on trying to land a commercial aircraft in the ocean.

I remember us working through the evacuation checklist, ensuring the plane was depressurized once we stopped, before I opened the cockpit door and gave the order to evacuate.

Children, fathers, mothers, strangers; their lives put blindly in my hands. I've heard their terrified cries most nights since it happened. I hear Jane giving the order to don life vests before helping to guide the passengers out the side doors and onto the slide rafts. I see the crew usher them out and into the ocean where they bob aimlessly, and wait thirty-two torturous minutes, adrift in the vastness of the Atlantic, until the Coast Guard rescue units start to arrive.

I search relentlessly up and down the aisles, ensuring there is no one left inside, while the back of the cabin fills slowly with salty water.

I remember how cold the ground felt as I knelt at the gravestone of the little boy who was trampled while the passengers scrambled over each other to evacuate. He died in the hospital fourteen hours later from internal injuries. I know distinctly, how it felt when his father put his hand on my shoulder and hugged me, comforted _me_ , after I had taken his child away from him.

"Earth to Cullen." Jasper's voice stirs me from the unwelcome memories. "You alright there, man?" He raises a brow.

"Yeah, I'm good," I answer quietly with a nod, adjusting my headset again.

"You sure about that? Now would be the time to let me know if you're not ready for this," he presses, sounding concerned.

"I'm okay, Jasper." I hope it sounds convincing.

"Just let me know if you're going to go all catatonic on me," he states, handing me the checklist. Right. The checklist. This is exactly what I need, every single move I make laid out for me. Something I can focus on. Lifting the clipboard from him, we systematically go over the pre-flight checks.

I'm thankful that it's Jasper with me today. He's one of my best friends, and I don't have many of them. We met in flight school, flew our first commercial red-eye together, and survived that fateful day eleven months ago. So, it only seems fitting that he would be the one to sit beside me as I pilot my first flight since it happened.

I've been cleared for months to return to the skies by countless psychiatrists, therapists, the airline, my mom and dad, my best friend Emmett, and my sister Alice. Somehow, they all seem to have faith in me. My father tells me everyone would have likely died with someone else at the controls. That the bank of experience and thousands of hours I logged in the air saved lives that day.

My shrink tells me it's normal to question myself given what I went through.

 _Normal._

Nothing about this seems normal. The 'what-ifs' haunt me. The flashbacks are a consistent reminder. The lack of sleep plagues me. The nightmares vary in intensity.

But this is all apparently _normal._

So why did I freeze for that fraction of a second? That's something no one has been able to answer, and something that will haunt me forever. I suppose at the end of the day it doesn't really matter why. The only thing that matters is someone is dead because of it.

Emmett says I need to let go and move on; that I simply just need to fly again. He complains that since it happened, I'm no longer the confident, and let's face it, cocky, womanizing bastard I used to be.

It's no secret that I have been with a lot of random women. Something about being a pilot seems to turn them on, and who am I to complain? I've actually not joined the mile-high club, despite the rumour mill. I take my job too seriously, and quite frankly, when I fuck, I'd prefer it to not be in a cramped, tiny space. But still, it's not as if I'm going to pretend I'm a saint. I have enjoyed my fair share of flight attendants.

A steady relationship is not something I've had in a while. Being gone for as much as I am, coupled with the inevitable rumours that accompany this job, doesn't make for a package that most women want to sign up for.

Jane and I had started to form something of a relationship before the accident. Well, as much as a pilot who is gone for days on end can be in a relationship with a head flight attendant who is never around, and fucks anything she can.

Whatever Jane and I had came to a screeching halt after it became extremely apparent that I wasn't dealing with the accident. The nightmares, the panic attacks, and the post-traumatic stress I was diagnosed with, was too much for her to handle. I don't blame her. For weeks I was almost catatonic, just going through the motions; Jasper literally having to hold me up as we received our accolades of heroism on national television.

Flying is in my blood, and I love it with a passion. My father is a pilot, and his father before him was as well. There's a sense of freedom, a power of being in control. To see the sights I've seen, the sunrises and the sunsets…each time it's a new experience. One I'll never take for granted.

After the accident, it was like a cloak of darkness fell over me, and I just gave up until Emmett literally kicked my ass out of his bar one night after way too many shots of Crown. I crashed at his place that night, and thus began his project to get me back into the cockpit.

So, he's back there now in the cabin with Alice, as we take the short flight from Toronto to Bermuda in what he's calling the " _Cullen Come Back Tour_."

He's got a week planned in Bermuda, that I'm sure will involve copious amounts of alcohol, and of course, knowing Emmett, plenty of women. Honestly, what I'd really like to do is sit on the beach by myself and finally forget about what happened. I'd like to do nothing but have drinks served to me by some anonymous waitress who doesn't speak to me, but I know that's not happening.

I had shut out everyone, including my family after the accident, and Emmett has made it his personal mission to make sure that I don't ever spend too much time alone anymore.

Hearing the flight attendant secure the cabin door, breaking me from my thoughts, I run through the checklist again.

"Edward, we're good. You've checked it four times already," Jasper remind me with a smirk. "I think our passengers would like to hear from their captain now."

I nod at him and glance out the side window. The fog has lifted. There will be no delaying the inevitable.

Mustering up the soothing, in-control pilot voice, I greet the passengers over the in-flight announcement system. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. This is Edward Cullen, your captain, and along with the first officer and the crew, we'd like to welcome you aboard True North Air flight 489 with service from Toronto to Bermuda. The weather is sunny ahead with excellent visibility, and it looks like we'll have a smooth ride. Flying time is approximately two hours and forty minutes, with an estimated arrival time in Bermuda at 12:10 pm. Local weather is a twenty- seven degrees Celsius. That would be about eighty degrees, Emmett." Jasper smirks at me and shakes his head. "Once again, welcome aboard. We'll be airborne soon."

After we receive clearance of crosschecks from the head attendant, Jasper grins as the pushback gets ready to take us away from the gate. "Just like riding a bike," he mumbles while I radio the tower.

"This is TNA 489, ready to taxi for takeoff." The familiar adrenaline rush I get every single time I fly fires through me. I've missed this feeling, and now I'm kicking myself for taking this long to get back up here.

"Flight attendants, please prepare for gate departure." My voice is smooth and strong, no trace of hesitation.

Instruction from the tower doesn't take long. "Roger, TNA 489, taxi to runway 24R 06L, and prepare for takeoff."

"Roger, that. Taxiing to 24R 06L." I glance at Jasper while the pushback maneuvers us to the tarmac. Waiting is typically torturous when the queue is backed up, but today, we get lucky. There's only two planes ahead of us, and turning into position is seamless. Still, I can feel the weight of Jasper's gaze on me, ready to take over if he needs to.

The Air Transat A330 in front of us speeds down the runway, my heart racing as I watch it rise effortlessly into the sky. "Crew, prepare for takeoff." With my heart in my throat, I wait for the go ahead from the tower.

Time seems to stand still as I stare out the cockpit window. I know that I'm very good at what I do, and that the accident was a mechanical engine failure -something completely out of my control. I've logged more hours flying than most pilots have at my age. This is something I intrinsically love. And in this moment, I'm angry at myself for wasting so many months away from it; for wallowing and sinking further into an abyss when I could have been leaving it behind me. In the shock of the year, Emmett was right for a change. I do just actually need to fly again.

"Roger. TNA 489, you are cleared for takeoff. Have a safe flight, Edward. Enjoy Bermuda."

Jasper smirks at the break in formality from the Tower.

"I fully intend to." I advance the throttles, taxiing down the runway, rising smoothly into the sky, and leave Toronto behind. A euphoric sensation overtakes my body, and I grin as we climb higher above the clouds, the city falling away below us.

"See?" Jasper looks over at me. "Piece of cake."

"Thanks, man," I say sincerely. "I can't imagine being up here right now with anyone else."

"Don't get all mushy with me, Cullen," he teases with a grin, and we continue to work together silently, leveling the plane off at our cruising altitude.

"So, what does Emmett have planned?" I ask once we are stabilized.

"My lips are sealed. I'm just happy to finally get to a beach and see Alice in one of her eighty-five bikinis."

I grimace, shaking my head. "Jesus. That's my sister you're talking about. Enough with the visuals."

"And you, my friend need to get laid. Who's the new attendant out there?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows. "I saw her looking at you."

"I didn't even notice them. I think I'm done with the flight attendants. Right now, I just want to lie on the beach by myself."

"And what, sleep all day? Stare into the ocean and think about what happened, all by yourself? Maybe you should let somebody in, live a little."

"I'm flying aren't I?" I fire back at him.

"And doing a fine job of it, man," he comments quickly. "Well, I'm sure there will be lots of possibilities for you in sunny Bermuda."

"Honestly, my life is complicated enough right now."

"Who said anything about complications? I just said you need to get laid." He smirks, checking the flight plan.

I know on some level, Jasper is right. It has been a long time. I haven't exactly been in any mood to date, and I'm fairly certain no one would really want to deal with the host of issues I've got going on right now.

It's not as if Alice hasn't tried to hook me up since the accident. God knows she schemes every chance she gets, casually calling the dates she sets me on ' _distractions.'_ But, the ' _distractions_ ' Alice selects always seem more interested in the fact that I'm a pilot, rather than getting to know who I really am.

There seems to be this misconception that it's all fun and glamorous; jaunting from city to city, country to country. It's truly not. It's fucking tiresome and lonely most of the time. Hotels and cities blur together, countless empty nights spent in a cold, hard bed have made me long for something else.

The rest of the flight is spent with me checking and double checking instrumentation as if I have OCD or something. Jasper just shakes his head at me, knowing that it's something I need to do at least this time around.

We land in Bermuda just after noon without incident, and a new found confidence washes over me. I know that it will take some time for the anxiety to dissipate altogether, but this has been a massive first step for me.

I'm practically euphoric while Jasper and I go through our post landing routine and power down the plane. Emmett hollers loudly from the back when we take our positions at the door of the cockpit to greet the shuffling line of debarking passengers. I can see him waving his hands, careening his head to try to catch a glimpse of us.

He's walking behind a fantastically beautiful, tall blonde, and pointing his finger at her while he winks at me. Leave it to Emmett to find a woman like that on some random flight.

Alice comes into view, practically skipping up the aisle in front of the blonde, the permanent smile that's been there since her and Jasper got together a year ago wider than I've ever seen it.

I shake my head at how ridiculous the two of them are. Actually, if I'm being honest, I envy what Alice and Jasper have. They're meant to be together, and I wonder if I'm destined to just be the poster boy for the stereotypical one-night stand pilot. _Is that really such a bad thing?  
_  
I know it's possible to have a meaningful relationship in this job. My dad met my mom during flight school, and they've been together ever since.

Jasper and I receive mumbled thanks from the parade of passengers that are ushered out the cabin door. When Alice nears us, she's in deep conversation with a tall redhead, who is laughing loudly like she doesn't have a care in the world.

She's dressed in old pink flip-flops, with a dark green bikini strap exposed over her shoulder, and a flowing white linen dress falling just above her knees. She continues laughing as she hoists a large, tattered beige messenger bag over her head and settles it across her body. She flips her fiery red hair over her shoulder, and I smirk at Alice. I have a feeling this is _distraction_ number one. 

"So, you're really going to stay in that dive?" Alice asks her as they stop just in front of us, waiting for the slow moving passengers to exit.

Red shrugs, trying to wind her wayward hair into an elastic. "It's not that bad of a place. I'm not worried about it," she says casually.

My eyes lock to hers before sliding to Alice, silently asking for an introduction.

"Oh, Vicki, this is my brother I was telling you about, Edward." Alice beams, looking all proud of me as she and Jasper exchange glances.

"You're a pilot?" Vicki asks, lowering her gaze slowly down over my uniform.

"That's what they tell me," I murmur, amused by her reaction. She finally finishes checking me out, returning her eyes to mine. "It's nice to meet you, Vicki."

"Stay with us. There's lots of room at the villa," Alice suggests. God, I love my sister. That's the best idea she's had in months.

"No, we wouldn't want to intrude," Vicki starts. Whoa, wait a minute _we_? I scan the aisle for the lucky bastard who is with her, but only see Emmett who now has his tongue down a tall blonde's throat. Fuck that was fast…even for him.

"I don't think Rosalie's going anywhere any time soon," Alice notes. Vicki whips her head around, and shakes it as she sees the borderline inappropriate PDA in the aisle.

"Rose! Seriously! Can you not wait until we at least get off the plane?" she hisses. Rose is paying no attention to Vicki, happy to be groping Emmett for the foreseeable future.

"Come on, it'll be fun," Alice coaxes. "Right, guys? We have lots of room."

"Mhmm. We sure do," Jasper adds. So helpful.

"This would be my Jasper, Vic." Alice beams at Jasper, clearly eager to get the vacation started.

"Nice to meet you," Vicki says, while she stares back at me instead of even acknowledging his existence.

"Say you'll stay with us, please?" There's no mistaking Alice's excitement.

"Hell, ya they're staying with us!" Emmett's voice booms from the aisle, and he wraps his arm around Rosalie's shoulder as they make their way forward.

"We are?" Vicki asks, turning back to Rose.

 _Say yes, please say yes_.

"I think that's a fantastic idea," Rose says. Emmett's grin gets wider, if that's possible, and I try to rein in mine.

Vicki looks back up at me, her eyes wide, questioning me silently it seems. I simply nod my head.

She narrows her eyes, and then swipes my hat from underneath my arm, putting it on her head. "Show me what you've got, Edward." Her voice is all breathy, promising something more, and I enjoy the view as she saunters casually off the plane.

While I watch Vicki's perfectly toned body move through the jetway, suddenly I think spending the next week alone on the beach is a very bad idea. Emmett is right. It's time to move on with my life. I think maybe a fiery redhead is exactly what I need right now; carefree, no strings, a new perspective.

Welcome to good times in Bermuda, Cullen.

And it was good times… until the nightmares inevitably came knocking. Even fruity drinks with umbrellas, pink sands, and a naked Vicki writhing under me couldn't chase them away.

I scared the living hell out of her and everyone else in the villa as I thrashed awake, screaming bloody murder, the sheets soaked through. Vic spent the rest of her vacation elsewhere and honestly, didn't seem bothered by it. She's a free spirit, content to float anywhere the wind blows. I'm fairly certain she wouldn't have spent the entire time with me anyway. This just gave her a very convenient excuse.

No one wants a lover with nightmares.

The trip to Bermuda would be my last commercial flight.

At thirty-six, I decided I needed a massive change. I moved back home to middle of fucking nowhere British Columbia. Even though I felt like a failure, my parents didn't see it that way.

They put me to work quickly, helping to run _Frontiers_. They started the adventure camp for troubled teens shortly after dad retired from the airline ten years ago.

With mom's background as an elementary school principal, and their mutual love of the great outdoors, it really was a perfect fit for them. In the summer, they take in struggling teens and put them through their paces in a wilderness adventure camp where they learn basic survival skills, teamwork, planning, and an appreciation of the environment. They also employ counselors to focus on the behavioural issues and addiction recovery processes the teens are working through.

In the winter, they… well, I guess now _we_ fly heli-charters into the remote mountains where adrenaline-seeking junkies can heli-hike, ski, and camp to their heart's content.

Business is booming. We have to turn away clients, it's so busy. Apparently, money is no object to some of these idiots who probably shouldn't be going down a kiddy toboggan hill let alone navigating the face of one of BC's unchartered mountains.

A few positives have emerged since I quit the airline. My nightmares have subsided somewhat. I don't wake my parents up with blood-curdling screams anymore while they sleep away up in the main cabin. Maybe they have just gotten used it.

Yet another perk of the job, piloting a chopper into the middle of nowhere gives me a new brand of adrenaline. One that isn't associated with landings in the ocean and hero medals that I don't deserve.

I think my shrink would say I'd making progress… That's if I ever went to him anymore. I stopped going about a month after I decided to leave the airline. He gave me a three-month prescription for Xanax and told me to try them. The bottle sits in my medicine cabinet, taunting me; a reminder of everything that happened. I think I'm keeping it there on purpose. If I don't take one, it means that on some level, I've won the battle. That I've finally gotten over it without needing some drug to help me along the way.

 _Frontiers_ is a real family affair now. Emmett has taken over bar and kitchen duty. I had no idea he was even interested in becoming a chef until he took some courses down in the town of Hope – the closest town to my home in the middle of nowhere - and is now responsible for the menu at the lodge. We've even been given a five-star rating from the _Hope Standard's_ restaurant reviewer on the basis of his mushroom risotto alone.

 _Damn. I could use some of that right now._

Rose and Emmett continued their relationship after the fling in Bermuda. She moved from Vancouver to shack up with him, and now is one of our team leads for heli-hike tours. She's spent her entire life hiking the mountains in BC, and knows how to handle assholes who can quickly get out of control if left unchecked.

Jasper is still flying for the airline. He and Alice are playing house in one of the cabins that line our property. She handles all the bookings and trip planning for _Frontiers_ , as well as my dating schedule, which at the moment is extremely pathetic.

Setting the chopper on the landing pad outside the lodge, I power down and turn to the backseat where one extremely green Mike Newton is cowering like a frightened rabbit, curled up in a fetal position.

Sliding off my aviators, I shake my head slowly at him. "We're back, Mike. You can breathe now." _You pussy_. Christ, it's not as if they were even up that high. I store my headset, and take another glance back at him.

Mike and his frat buddies are here for a heli-camping trip. However, not five hours into the hike, I was lifting one terrified Newton back to the lodge, while dad continued with the rest of the crew where he would stay the night on the mountain.

I was looking forward to camping up there with dad. We usually are going in opposite directions, so taking a tour together doesn't happen very often. But then, damn Newton swore up and down he saw a bear, refusing to stay another minute.

 _What the fuck ever. It's your dime, asshole._

Hauling open the back door of the chopper, I shake my head at Mike as he sits up, tugging his Ralph Lauren down-filled jacket, and taking off his headset. Every damn thing this idiot owns has that horse on it.

Since he looks like he's going to hurl, I tug his limp body free from the chopper just in time to see him double over, the contents of a campfire dinner splaying over my boots.

 _Why did I quit the airline again?_

Once he's done, I reach into the chopper, grabbing his way-too-expensive horse-embroidered backpack, and sling it over my shoulder, guiding him through the snow back to his cabin.

Another perk about winter up here; puke on your boots comes off easily in three-foot-high snow banks.

He doesn't say a goddamn word as I lead him past the fire-pit to his cabin. He glances at me sheepishly, his breath crystallizing in the freezing air when I pass him the backpack at his door, and he slinks inside.

Dusk is descending as I trudge back through the snow to my cabin. It would be nice to curl up with a soft, warm female body right now. I furrow my brow, rounding the snow-covered path for my cabin, taking in the soft glow that emanates from the bank of windows in the living room.

I never leave the lights on.

Ever.

Not spotting any tracks outside in the freshly fallen snow, I'm on high alert. Whoever has been or is currently in here, has been here a while.

The cedar deck creaks in its usual spot, and I press against the side of the cabin, stepping up to the front door.

Muffled sounds of music drifts from inside as I place my hand on the door handle and try it. It's unlocked and I push it open slowly, muscles coiled, ready to kick some ass.

The smell of freshly baked brownies drifts to me—all chocolate, and rich, and warm—as I step inside, quietly shut the door behind me.

 _Intruders baking brownies and playing music?_ My eyes fall to a pair of expensive looking high-heeled boots beside the door. Maybe it's Jessica. Sometimes, she brings me cookies when she's here for a fuck. But how the hell did she even get up here?

I toe out of my boots, thankful that the snowdrifts have removed Newton's earlier hurling scene, and scan the living room. I see nothing out of place, with the exception of an unfamiliar ski jacket draped over the back of one of my sofas. Furrowing my brow, I make my way to the enticing smell emanating from the kitchen.

Holy fuck, these brownies smell good. I'm drawn to the pan of chocolate goodness that sits on the counter, and I pull a fork out of the cutlery drawer, sinking it into the pan and take a bite.

 _What the hell?_

I spit the brownie – if that's what you want to call it—out into my hand, my tongue desperate for something to wash away the most horrific taste I've ever had in my mouth.

These are the worst brownies in the history of baking. Throwing the chocolate remnants into the sink, I haul open the fridge door, reaching for a carton of milk, not bothering with a glass, I press open the cardboard and drink back a few large mouthfuls in quick succession until the rancid taste starts to disappear.

Maybe it's Emmett and another one of his attempts at a joke.

Not fucking funny.

At all.

Narrowing my eyes in the direction of my bedroom loft, I stalk up the stairs, the music getting louder with each step. Axl is welcoming me to the jungle.

Once in my loft, my eyes fall to a soaked black t-shirt draped across the foot of my bed, and a pair of jeans that could never be Jessica's. I see an iPhone that isn't mine docked in my sound system on my dresser.

My gaze lingers on a black lace bra, and I can't help myself. I'm drawn to it, much like the brownies. Let's hope it doesn't have the same effect.

I know I probably shouldn't be picking up some unknown woman's lingerie, but hell, she's in _my_ house, making gut-wrenching brownies in _my_ stove, and using _my_ iPod sound system. I think I'm entitled.

My fingers trace the black lace bra as the music track changes. I hear a little squeal from the bathroom, and then it starts.

 _I love myself_

 _I want you to love me_

I can't help the smirk that overtakes my face as I move to the _open_ door of the bathroom. An open door means come on in, right?

 _When I feel down_

 _I want you above me_

It's off key, top of your lungs shower singing at its best. And who has the Divinyls on their playlist?

Leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, I can't help but smirk, my eyes falling to the blurred form behind the glass shower door. I wish for once I had opted for a shower with no door. It would be nice to see who's currently getting wet in my shower.

Oh yeah. Bring it home, sweetheart.

And shower girl does. Belting it out at the top of her lungs as the steam fills the bathroom.

 _I don't want anybody else  
_

 _When I think about you  
_

 _I touch myself  
_

I switch the music off as mystery girl continues for a few bars before she actually recognizes that the music has stopped.

Dropping the bra to the bed, I take up my previous position at the doorframe, leaning against it. I cross my arms, hearing the shower switch off and then a very quiet, "Shit!"

Silence. And then…

"Um… Hello?" a timid voice echoes from behind the frosted shower door. My smirk widens, my eyes staying fixed on the blurred figure just beyond my reach.

"Alice? Is that you?"

"Afraid not," I answer.

Silence greets me again for a moment before she speaks. "I'm warning you now, I have pepper spray," her voice threatens.

I suppress my laugh. "In the shower? You have to watch out for that soap. It can get unruly."

"Don't hurt me. Please." Her voice sounds frantic, and for the first time, I actually feel kind of bad about sneaking up on her.

Kind of.

"Hey, hey. Calm down there, howler."

I hear her take in a sharp breath. " _Howler?_ Did you just call me _howler_?" I see a palm press against the glass and rub frantically to reveal a small clear oval on the steamed glass. Hmm… she's a feisty thing.

Her blurred figure bends slightly, and I see just her eyes lower to appear in the cleared portion of glass. They're wild and dark as she stares back at me.

I move toward the door slowly, holding my palm up to her. "Hey. I'm not going to hurt you, okay?"

"Who are you?" she barks at me.

I narrow my eyes at her. "Hmm… I think I'm the one who should be asking you that. You're in my shower."

"Oh shit! Alice said you were gone until tomorrow."

I hold her gaze, lifting a brow. "Yeah? Well…Surprise."

 **To be continued…**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Bella**_

How long do you stand at the baggage carousel watching the same black piece of luggage which isn't yours go around and around and around?

No matter how many times I check the tag, it always has the same name – Jean Simmons – which just makes me think about _KISS,_ and want to sing _Rock 'n Roll All 'Nite_ over and over again in my head.

And, about a half an hour is the answer, by the way to that first question. It's enough time that every single person on the flight has collected their bags and left the airport.

Of course mine would be the luggage that didn't make it.

I'm unimpressed with the baggage attendant at the Air Canada counter who doesn't seem to care that my entire wardrobe is lost God only knows where.

He simply shrugs his shoulders, hands me a delayed baggage card, and says, "It happens."

Apparently, I should hear from them within five business days.

Five days! Without any of my clothing.

 _Off to a fantastic start, Bella._

Annoyed, tired, and just wanting to get my new job, I pick up my rental – a huge, rugged, and very red Chevy Tahoe, and head out to Hope, British Columbia.

My new employers had given me detailed directions, and I've programmed the GPS, but I'm still leery about driving in a new place.

Also, I'm not used to driving a car like this. I had an old beat up, two-door Hyundai back in Toronto, and only used it to bomb around in on the weekends to pick up groceries, and for the occasional visit to my Dad. That's what a lot of people do on the weekends who live in Toronto-get the hell out.

Most of the time, I use the subway. It's convenient and easy to get around the congestion of traffic that plagues most of the city.

But now, I'm driving, white knuckled along snow-covered East Highway One, and wondering what in hell I'm getting myself into.

I had a good thing going in Toronto. Assistant Professor of Social Psychology at my alma mater U of T is a damn good job. Unfortunately, it was focused more on grading papers and creating lesson plans, and took me away from where my heart lies – group counseling.

So, when I saw the online posting for a Head Counselor at _Frontiers_ for the summer, I applied to it. I soon found out that Esme and Alice Cullen are two of the most persistent individuals on the planet. And what's more, I liked them.

We had a few Skype 'conversations' – I call them that, because they were supposed to be interviews, but it really didn't feel like it. After they saw my resume and references, they simply wanted to get to know me.

I was impressed with their philosophy and their mission to engage struggling teens in personal growth through their adventure camp and associated therapeutic counseling sessions. I had a lot of ideas, and they had taken to them eagerly, essentially giving me free reign over the group sessions.

They also made me laugh – something that I haven't really done in a long time. Not since I found out about Paul. I scowl to myself. I really don't want to go there. Not anymore.

The university understood my wanting to leave for the summer term, and had written me a glowing recommendation. I would miss the students, but I knew they would be in very good hands with their new professor, and besides, it's just for the summer.

Leaving Dad was the hardest part, but since he's discovered salsa dancing and Sue, his instructor, he's a lot happier. He encouraged me to go saying, "There's always planes, kiddo. We can come visit."

My Mom is another story. She's off in Newfoundland with her new husband, Phil, a cod fisherman who she hopes to start a reality show with. I'm sure it will be gracing the screens on CTV in the not-so-distance future. When my mother wants something, there is no stopping her.

And so, here I am, heading down the highway and just passing Chilliwack, which makes me sing _My Girl_ at the top of my lungs.

 _Ever since she left me  
_

 _I sure feel all alone  
_

 _A little misunderstanding  
_

 _I can't get her on the telephone_

Yeah, well _, Paul_ , it was a little more than a _little_ misunderstanding. Asshole.

Men. Who needs them anyway?

I continue along, following the GPS until I come to the small town of Hope. It's cute as towns go, surrounded by huge mountain peaks, the sweeping curve of the Fraser River, and quaint little shops that I would like to spend more time in.

Following Alice's instructions, I find Memorial Park, and scan for the black SUV with the _Frontiers_ logo. She said Emmett, who she referred to as a 'big oaf and like a brother' would be picking me up. She forwarded me a picture of him so at least I know who I'm looking for.

I'm really nervous, which is unusual for me. _Hmm… maybe that's the lack of your entire wardrobe talking._

Panic hits me. What the hell am I going to change into? Everything I own is packed, including my hiking boots. I grimace at my choice of knee high boots for the flight, but despite what everyone else may assume, they're actually extremely comfortable. They are also the first indulgent thing I purchased after I graduated with my PhD and joined the real world of being an adult.

I park the jumbo-sized Tahoe beside a large snowbank, and slip out into the freezing cold. Holy shit! I frown at the fact I only have a t-shirt on under my ski jacket. At least I had the sense to wear it and not some lightweight hoodie that would do nothing against this biting wind.

With my hair swirling around as the wind whips against me, I reach in to retrieve my carry-on bag. Thank God for whoever had the brilliant idea to invent the carry-on. Even though mine only contains my computer, some toiletry items, and a few books, at least it's something.

"Boo!"

"Fuck!" I jump about a thousand feet, and whirl around to face the dimpled grin of the big oaf Alice described. "You scared the hell out of me!"

He laughs and reaches for my carry-on bag. "Welcome to Hope, BC! I'm Emmett." My heart hammers as he envelopes me with his free and massive arm. I can feel how solid he is even under the thick parka he has on. I try not to coil away, but I'm not a hugger. Neither Mom or Dad were big on the hug, and despite not wanting to be self-conscious about my more than generous curves, I am.

Growing up, my best friend Angela was model-thin, and we were both teased and taunted as only school kids can do. A lifetime of hearing the negative tends to stick with you.

I know I shouldn't care at all what society, or Emmett, or anyone else thinks of me. I'm a successful psychologist, an independent woman who just happened to inherit ample boobs and hips from my mother. I knew very early on that I'd never conform to society's messed up view of the desirable. I also don't want to live my life never indulging, afraid of what the occasional brownie may do to my waistline. Dessert is meant to be eaten and enjoyed, and I'll be damned if I'm giving it up.

"Thanks for coming to get me. You really didn't have to."

"Yeah, I did. This thing won't get to where we're going," he answers, nodding his head at the Tahoe.

I furrow my brow, looking up at him, shutting the door. "It won't?"

"Nope." He grins, moving around to the back of the SUV. "Open it up and I'll get the rest of your luggage."

"Oh, there's no need for that. The airline saw to it that my luggage took a different route."

His eyes widen. "You serious? They lost your stuff?"

Nodding, I wonder how long it's going to take for my luggage to resurface... if it ever does. "It would seem that way."

"Well, shit. Alice and Rose will be able to hook you up until it arrives, and I'm sure we have something from the shop you can use," he says.

"Thanks. I just hope it shows up soon." I leave the paperwork and the key for the Tahoe in the glove box as the rental company instructed. It seems strange to just leave the SUV here, but they said it would be safe, and that someone would pick it up in the morning.

Emmett leads the way through the snow to his SUV, opening up the passenger door for me and placing my carry-on in the back. I can feel the snow soaking through my boots to my socks, and I shake my head for not wearing the hiking ones. Clearly a rookie move.

"So, this will make it to where we're going, but that SUV wouldn't?" I ask as we leave the sleepy town of Hope behind.

"Nope. This one won't either. It'll get us to base camp. We'll take an ATV the rest of the way," he says, turning up the heat as I shiver in the seat beside him.

" _Base camp_?" I ask, lifting a brow. What in the world? An ATV? I've never been on an ATV in my life.

He answers with a laugh. "We're kind of remote."

"Define _kind of_ ," I start warily, looking out the window as he takes a turn, heading onto a quiet, snow covered, and windy road. The rugged mountains seem to rise up around us with snow-encased trees as far as the eye can see. Not a car or a bus or even a streetlight in sight.

"Hmm… Well, you can't access it by a regular road. Your neighbours will be deer and the occasional bear, if you're lucky, and if you want groceries or need a shopping fix, Esme makes a trip in once every couple of weeks."

 _Once every couple of weeks?_

Nodding, I try to remain nonchalant. I knew _Frontiers_ was off the beaten path, but I didn't really have any idea just how far off it was. I guess that means no late trips to the SuperStore, or Starbucks either _._

Emmett navigates the narrowing road with ease as we climb higher, asking about life in Toronto. He has a great energy about him. He seems like he's someone who would be happy no matter where he is.

His mood is infectious and about a half hour later, I'm laughing along with him while we pull into a clearing with a small cedar cabin that sits beside a large garage. He picks up a remote that is sitting in the coffee holder between us and presses a button, raising one of the garage doors and moving the SUV forward, parking inside.

I climb down from my seat, reaching for my carry-on while Emmett moves to a large, black ATV parked beside a snowmobile with the _Frontiers_ logo flaming in yellow along the side.

"Hop on!" he offers, straddling the seat and starting up the machine.

It roars to life and I grin, sliding the strap of my carry-across my chest as I climb up behind him.

"Hold on tight," he calls over his shoulder as he revs up the engine. "It can get bumpy!"

I wrap my arms around the solid muscle that is Emmett, my smile widening as he pulls slowly out of the garage, pausing and using the remote once more to close the garage door.

"No helmets?" I ask. If only my dad could see me now. Charlie would so not approve of this.

"Naw, it will be fine. Trust me," he says, waving me off. "If you needed a helmet, I'd give you one."

And then, we're off, the wind whipping my hair behind me as he navigates the ATV with precision over the snow laden ground. I let out a squeal as he takes a sharp turn, heading up a steep hill. I can feel the rumble in his chest as he laughs at my reaction, and I bury my face into the strong expanse of his back, hiding against the biting wind.

I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins as we move deeper into the forest. There are so many snow encased trees and rocks, they all look the same, and I haven't got a clue how he knows where we are.

It's invigorating to ride like this with the snow lightly falling over me, the roar of the engine, the crispness of the air as I breathe it in.

Who needs the subway when you can get around like this?

Alice and Esme are whirlwinds of energy. I find this out quickly as I step into the massive main lodge. I'm greeted enthusiastically with hugs, a million questions about my trip, and the best hot chocolate I've ever had.

The cedar lodge is rustic with floor to ceiling windows that face the mountains, and large exposed beams that line the A-Frame ceiling. It opens up to a seating area with overstuffed brown leather couches surrounding a huge stone fireplace. I think I'd like to spend every free minute I have in front of that fireplace. It's inviting and currently crackling away as a few guests mill about the room, relaxing and talking enthusiastically with one another, each one of them with a drink in their hand.

The placeclearly knows how to keep their guests happy.

There are several black-and-white photographs scattered on the walls, but I don't have time to take a look at them as I'm ushered quickly out the door and to my cabin by Alice.

"Your cabin is right beside ours!" she squeals happily as she pushes open the large wooden door and I step inside.

The view from the panoramic windows is magnificent, and I stare transfixed. The rugged mountain range rises into the cloudless sky, snow covered trees line the clearing around the large fire pit that sits in the middle of the circle of the cabins.

I move to the beige leather couch in the living room, sinking down and just staring, awe-struck.

"Is it okay?" Alice asks, sounding concerned.

"Are you serious? This is my cabin?"

She nods quickly. "There's a fireplace and a bedroom at the back. Oh! And a big claw foot tub in the bathroom. We have one too!" she gushes.

"I'll get you some extra clothes while you get settled. I can't believe they lost your bags!" she rambles in horror, moving to the door and then spinning quickly back to me. "Oh, and if you have a bath, which I highly suggest after being on an airplane all day long, you may need to tap the pipes that connect to the tub. They freeze up sometimes," she continues happily. "I'll be back in a while. I'm so glad you're here."

In a whirlwind of energy, she whips open the door into the blustery afternoon and is gone.

I'm in a bit of shock, I think. It's like I'm on a five-star vacation instead of my job. Fireplaces and claw tubs and views like this? And I'm getting paid?

Giggling happily like a schoolgirl, I push up from the couch, taking my jacket off in the process, and head in search for the tub.

Hmm… Narrowing my eyes at the pipes that stand between me and a good soak in this dream tub, I search for something to tap them harder with. I've been trying to get the water going for the last ten minutes and all I've gotten so far is a slow trickle. It will take hours to fill at this point.

Frustrated, I make my way into the small kitchenette, rifling through the drawers until I find a rolling pin. That should do the trick!

Marching back to the tub, I tap the pipes lightly with my hand again, but still, just a slow drip.

Gently, I bang on the pipes with the rolling pin and the water stops altogether. Damn!

"You son of a…" I raise the rolling pin back and swing as hard as I can, connecting with the pipe.

It all happens pretty fast from here. The pipe makes a groaning sound and then explodes, coming apart and spraying water all over me and anything else in the general vicinity. I'm completely soaked, and now frantically pulling down every towel I can find to try to stop the gush of water that is slowly flooding the bathroom and adjourning bedroom.

"Shit, shit, shit!" These are good towels-thick and thirsty, and just perfect. Well, no longer. Wrapping a few of them over break in the pipe, my eyes fall to a slightly rusted valve. If I only had another pair of hands!

I'm already soaked, what's a bit more water? I abandon my grip on the plush towels and reach for the valve. The water pushes against the towels, sending them to the floor, a new stream of water surging from the pipes as I struggle to turn the rusty valve.

It finally cooperates, making a screeching sound as I twist it closed. The water gives one last spray in my direction and then finally stops.

I sit back into the flood on the hardwood floor, my heart hammering as water drips from my saturated hair. I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry. I choose the former and crack up, my laughter echoing through the empty cabin.

I just wanted to have a bath in the dream tub. Is that really too much to ask?

Thank God Alice can find the humour in the situation. She assures me it's not the first time that pipes have exploded in the cabins here, though she did say she can't remember quite this level of a disaster.

The bathroom is completely flooded and it has seeped into the bedroom. Nothing that can't be fixed, but it will need to be dried out overnight. I feel horrible despite Alice's reassurance.

 _Way to make a first impression_ , _Bella._ _Flood the five-star cabin._

As Emmett works away to try to fix the broken pipe, Alice ushers me to her brother Edward's cabin where she says I can stay until they clear out the flood.

"Are you sure it's okay?" I ask for the hundredth time, shivering as she passes me a hoodie from his front closet. "I mean, I don't want to impose. I can always sleep on the couch in the cabin." I take the navy coloured hoodie from her. It's soft and has been well loved, as Charlie would say. I really couldn't care less what it looks like. I just need to get out of my clothes that are stuck me like a second skin at the moment.

"You are not sleeping on a couch! Edward is on a heli-hike until tomorrow night. It's totally fine," she says.

"Heli-hike?" I ask intrigued.

"Yeah. Edward is a pilot, my dad too. They fly people into remote areas so they hike and ski," she explains casually, looking at her watch. "I have a call with a reporter for the _Hope Standard_ in a few minutes _._ They're doing a feature on us. Can you believe it?" She turns for the door. "I'll be back with some clothes once I'm done. In the meantime, put that on so you don't freeze." She nods to the hoodie in my hand. "Make yourself at home and try not to burst any more pipes." She winks at me and pulls the door open, letting a blast of frigid air into the cabin.

Edward's cabin is bigger than mine with a loft upstairs. Making my way up, I set my carry-on bag beside the massive bed, pausing to stare at it. I've been doing that a lot since I got here; staring at things that seem unreal. This bed is no exception. It's enormous, probably the biggest bed I've ever seen, framed with sturdy, thick pine and a slatted headboard that rests under an oval window. It's sporting a dark navy duvet cover and a checked flannel blanket that is folded up neatly, lying across the foot of the bed. It's extremely enticing, but right now, I need to get out of these wet clothes and bake.

That's what I do when I'm stressed out. I bake. And this situation clearly calls for it. No luggage, flooded cabins, the thought of a bear as neighbour… Yep, I'm a bit stressed. I hope to hell Edward has some baking essentials stocked up.

I peel myself out of my wet t-shirt, placing it on the bed and start the process of tugging off my jeans. I couldn't have worn yoga pants or something that would be easy to get off, could I? No. I had to wear these damn jeans that hug every single curve I have.

Finally, I get them off, finding a towel in Edward's bathroom. He doesn't have a tub, fortunately. Just a shower. That will do just fine, thank you very much.

I towel off and gently slip the hoodie on over my head, my senses coming alive as I breathe in the unique scent that washes over me. It's slightly woodsy, crisp, and just delicious. It's also massive, falling to mid-thigh, and I feel a thousand times better once I have it on.

I contemplate whether I should leave my soaked bra and underwear on. It's not the most pleasant feeling in the world to have on cold, wet lace against your skin.

Should I bake sans lingerie?

Yes. Yes, I should.

I leave them both on the bed, feeling rather wanton at my state of undress, and make my way down to Edward's kitchen to start my stress therapy.

Everyone should be the winner of _American Idol_ when they sing in the shower.

I turn my face up to the hot spray, enjoying the feel as it pounds against my skin. I needed this shower—big time. I sing along with Divinyls—one of the best one hit wonders ever, in my opinion—as I lather myself up with Edward's shower gel.

" _When I think about you I touch myself."_

I slide my hands over my breasts, down across my hips, singing at the top of my lungs. And then, the music stops. With my heart in my throat, I switch off the shower, cursing under my breath and turn to stare at the steamed glass shower door.

 _Please let it be Alice. Please let it be Alice._ I repeat the mantra in my head, but I know better. If it was Alice, she'd already be talking.

Maybe if I don't move, they'll just go away, right?

 _Yeah, right._

The way my day is going?

So, I bite the bullet. "Um… hello?" When I get no answer, I actually start to panic. Every late night scary movie I've ever seen comes crashing back to me. I'm going to die at the hands of some mass murdering mountain man. Kind of like Janet Leigh in Psycho, only instead of the shower curtain being thrust aside, he'll whip open the door.

Shit! "Alice? Is that you?" I try to make out anything through the steamed glass doors, but all I see is a shadow lurking in the doorway.

"Afraid not." A low, husky, and slightly amused male voice drifts to me. It doesn't sound like Emmett.

I wrap my arms around myself and draw forth Charlie's advice. Let them know you can defend yourself.

"I'm warning you now, I have pepper spray." There. That sounded solid, maybe even threatening a little. Too bad the pepper spray is back in Toronto. Figures, I never needed it there, but in the middle of nowhere somehow it would come in handy.

A deep laugh greets my statement, but he doesn't sound scary. He makes some smart-ass remark about having to watch out for the soap, and I narrow my eyes at the glass door, going for option two. Pleading.

His answer comes quickly, his voice sounding almost apologetic… almost.

"Hey, hey. Calm down there, howler." I can hear a smirk in his voice.

Did he seriously just call me _howler?_ Anger overtakes irrational fear, and I rub a spot clear on the glass door. Who does this guy think he is? I peer through the cleared glass, my eyes meeting his; dark, intensely green and amused. Those eyes aren't the eyes of a mass murdering mountain man… I hope.

Finding more courage, I ask him who he is, trying to get a look at him through the steamed up glass.

"Hmm… I think I'm the one who should be asking you that. You're in my shower," he says smugly.

I feel a sense of relief wash over me. It doesn't last long, however, as Edward may not be a serial killer, but he has heard me singing as only someone can in shower. Cue the mortification. "Oh shit! Alice said you were gone until tomorrow."

"Yeah? Well…Surprise."

 _Cocky bastard._

"Surprise? That's it? You could have said something."

I see laugh lines around the corners of his eyes as he lifts a brow. "And interrupt your, err… singing? I don't think so."

I roll my eyes, annoyance taking over every other emotion. "I'd like to get out of the shower now," I say defiantly as the warmth from the heated spray that I was enjoying immensely starts to dissipate.

"Don't let me stop you."

I groan in frustration. "You're standing between me and a towel," I state the obvious.

"Hmm… You should have thought about that. Incidentally, what are you doing in my shower?"

"It's a long story."

"Well, I've got time." His eyes lower down the glass and I step back against the tile, swiping the washcloth from the built in shelf and trying to cover up the essentials. If I can't see him clearly that means he can't see me, right?

I smirk in spite of myself. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

I'm answered with another low, delicious laugh. "How about we start with who you are? How do I know that _you're_ not the dangerous one here?" he asks sarcastically. I see his shadow move to the other side of the bathroom.

"I'm Bella Swan, and—"

"Ah… The Shrink," he interrupts.

I furrow my brow. "God, I hate that word. I worked my ass off to get a PhD and I'm an Associate Professor. _Shrink_ makes it sound like I'm just making shit up," I hiss in his general direction.

"Easy there, Doc. No offense. I've just had my share of experience with shrin… psychologists."

I smile at the nickname he's given me. Unfortunately, I have no time to enjoy it, my eyes widening as I see his blurry figure move to the shower door. I try to press myself further into the tile. He raises his arm and drapes a thick blue towel over the top of the door.

"Here's a towel. I'm not standing between you and it anymore."

"Thank you." I tentatively reach up for it, whipping it down and wrapping it around myself, tucking it in above my breasts. There. I feel better now… kind of.

"So you're the one responsible for the brownies in my kitchen?"

I smile, twisting my hair and wringing water out the ends. "Yes, I am." I was pleased to find that the kitchen was well-stocked. Maybe he bakes? Hmm… An unwelcome thought suddenly comes to me. Maybe he has girlfriend who does. No. Alice wouldn't let me stay here if he did, would she?

"Jesus. They're horrible."

I push open the shower door, my anger rising, my eyes finding one Edward Cullen, filling the opening of the bathroom door, his arms stretched above his head, gripping the top of the doorframe.

I wasn't prepared for this. Not for the hair sticking out from under a black beanie. Not for the faded grey t-shirt under an open flannel checked long sleeve, or for the baggy, low-hanging to the point of being inappropriate black jeans. And I sure as hell wasn't ready for the scruff. Oh, the two days' worth of scruff gracing an angular, hard set jaw.

Lord have mercy.

I swallow back the lump in my throat as we stare at each other. "What did you just say?" I ask, finally finding my voice as I grip the top of the towel at my breast.

He leans forward, his hands still holding the top of the doorframe. "Horrible." His mouth quirks in a way that should be illegal.

"That's not what Paul used to say." Ha! Take that.

He lifts a brow. "Yeah? Well, Paul's a liar."

"Tell me something I don't know."

He nods, his eyes scanning leisurely down over the towel. "Hmm… Something tells me there's more to that statement." He leans forward, grinning. "You want to talk about it, Doc?"

"Ugh! You are one of the most frustrating people on earth. I'd love an hour to get inside your head."

He flashes a full watt smile at me. "But we just met. Are you really that kind of girl?"

"That's it! Get out!" I holler at him.

"My bathroom, remember?" The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement.

I narrow my eyes at him and I grip the edge of the door, slamming it shut.

I hear him chuckle behind it. "And you think I _'m_ the one who needs an hour of therapy. You want to know what I think?"

I flick the lock shut on the door with more force than is necessary and start a vigorous toweling off. "Enlighten me, please, Maverick." I smirk at the nickname. How many times was I forced to endure Top Gun with dad? Too many to count. It's come in handy now though. Damn infuriating pilot. I reach for another towel from the shelf for my hair.

"Nah. Just for that, I think I'll keep it to myself."

I try to rein in my smile, but it's difficult. He is simultaneously frustrating and incredibly sexy. It's a dangerous mix.

I wonder if it's a danger I want more of. Somehow, I think this job just got a lot more complicated.

Thank you for reading. XO Leslie

 _Rock and Roll All Nite –_ Lyrics by Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley

 _My Girl_ \- Lyrics by Bill Henderson of the iconic Canadian band, Chilliwack

 _Welcome to the Jungle_ – Lyrics by Axl Rose, Slash, Izzy Stradin, Duff McKagan, Steve Adler

 _I Touch Myself_ – Lyrics by Christina Amphlett, Mark McEntee, Tom Kelly, Billy Steinberg. Come on, you were singing it. I know you were.

Twitters: CarLemon


End file.
